


Rough Touch

by AlacritiousEidolon (p_3a)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/AlacritiousEidolon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of drabble prompts with violent edges to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anduin breaks Wrathion's arm

Wrathion was rapidly re-assessing his opinion of Anduin Llane Wrynn.

He’d expected to be captured. He’d  _planned_  it. He had vaguely considered the possibility that Anduin would attend his interrogation. He hadn’t expected Anduin to be the one  _conducting_  it.

The emotion in Anduin’s eyes was clear; his questions, though, were indifferent and distant.  _Why were you present in the Spires of Arak_ , he asked, his chin lifted high and his mouth set into a cold line.  _Why were you interfering with Alliance military operations._

And Wrathion gave his answers, of course; but they weren’t to Anduin’s liking, and Wrathion found this out when the Prince lashed out at him. It was just a slap to his face, at first - it stung, but Wrathion could take it. Even with his arms tied up behind his back like they were.

“Stop  _lying_  to me!” he spat, his eyes ablaze - not literally, but Wrathion could practically feel the Light’s heat burning into him. “Just give me a  _straight answer_  for  _once_!”  
“But how can I give a  _straight answer_  if I’m not  _straig_ –”

Wrong time for a witty quip. Anduin lashed out again, with a kick, this time. And considering the man stumbled to catch his balance again moments later, it was _shockingly_  powerful - the sheer force of the blow left Wrathion struggling to catch his breath, and after a few moments, nausea began to curl in his stomach as he realised exactly what had happened. His arm was  _broken_. From a  _kick_. But how–?

Forcing his gaze back to Anduin, the lingering glow on the priest’s boot answered his question. Anduin’s righteous fury had been enhanced, then. But looking up at his face, he wasn’t sure the Prince had even realised it.

Good. He’d keep it that way. Either this Anduin was considerably less pleasant than the one he’d left behind on Pandaria… or this Anduin was the kind of person who might just cry if he’d learned he’d broken a man’s arm during interrogation. Let alone his ex’s. Wrathion didn’t want to bait the former possibility - and despite everything, he still didn’t want to upset the latter possible Anduin, either.

Gritting his teeth and shifting his weight, he rocked himself upright again, to once more kneel before Stormwind’s Prince.

“I’m going to ask again,” Anduin said, tears welling in his eyes - Wrathion didn’t know why. “Why were you interfering with Alliance military operations?”

Wrathion set his jaw, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. This was going to be a long afternoon.


	2. Varian delivers a beating to Garrosh

“The fuck is wrong with you?” he spat, still holding Garrosh upright by a hand grasped at the back of his head. It had been almost three minutes now of the orc simply  _letting_  Lo’gosh punch him, kick him, throw him around - leaving welts and bruises and even a few grazes on his face, his arms, his ribs.

“You  _like_  this?” He threw another punch at his head, letting Garrosh fall, then pressed his foot firm up against his ribcage - shoving hard, though not kicking. He wasn’t here to  _kill_  the orc (had he ever been?); just to hurt him. But the fact he was allowing it to happen was the worst part.

Didn’t make Lo’gosh  _stop_ , though. Garrosh had been the one to challenge him. And it wasn’t as though he was unconscious, either - every time there was a stillness, he’d open his eyes and stare up at the King, that amber gaze as intense and determined as ever. He was doing it now. It made Varian want to stop; it made Lo’gosh want to kick his face in.

They settled for a compromise. Grabbing him by the arm, they hauled him upright again (and Garrosh had to be working with him, because he knew he’d never be able to lift the dead weight of the man) and landed another punch on his cheekbone. Might’ve broken it; might’ve broken another knuckle in their own hand. Lo’gosh didn’t care either way. “Or do you just think you  _deserve_  it?”


	3. Varian clutches his hand tightly around Anduin’s mouth to silence him

It was an action of panic. Anduin was  _hurt_ ; Lo’gosh knew that. Hurt badly. He was burned and bleeding and crying and it was the second part that was threatening to turn “hurt badly” into “dead” and he knew moving him was going to hurt him more, but life over limb, life over pain, Anduin’s survival above all things. So he grabbed him and pulled him into his lap and pinned his mouth shut with his hand.

He heard footsteps by the undergrowth they were hiding in. They’d rolled here, down into the ditch, after the first fel cannon strike. It was Lo’gosh’s quick thinking that had put them here; maybe this way, the demons would assume they’d been blasted to pieces by the initial strike. But they’d sent a scouting party down to check.

Lo’gosh peered carefully through the brambles, his hand still clamped over his son’s mouth, to see if he’d left any footprints in the dust leading away from the blast, while the smoke was still clearing. He hadn’t. Seems Goldrinn’s blessing had seen him right once again; he’d leapt clear from where they’d been hit to the undergrowth. Good. The demonic scouting party continued their survey of the area, unaware their targets were less than ten feet away.

He’d hardly noticed the way his own face was burned; the way the skin on the arm holding Anduin close to his chest was peeling away. He just needed to keep Anduin  _safe_.


End file.
